• hopilavayi: an erotic dictionary

memories of my ghost sista

~ the dead are never satisfied

memories of my ghost sista

Tag Archives: quote unquote

Ö

08 Wednesday Feb 2023

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, Poetry, sonnet

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die hard, die loved, die wet, erotic poetry, masturbation is the door we all need to pass through, poem, quote unquote, Siouxsie Sioux 8-track, sonnet

Pleasure, as they say, is its own reward;

for those of us who barter and haggle,

dreaming of more. To die wet. To die hard.

To die loved. To be more than a wastrel.

“He’s at work,” you say. “They’re outside playing.

Wish it was your cock and not” [here you shake,

drawing your phat butt-plug from your gaping

Ö] “This. Look!” [on your webcam you ache, quake

and crack.] “Guess it can’t be helped, fu-fu-fu.”

They’re not lost years, frenzied at my computer;

we’re the tribe that does what it must for lust,

without apology. “Play Siouxsie Sioux

and cum for me.” I stand: drunk, hornier

than the gods and start with, “Cities in Dust.”

THE FOOL [0] Soul of the Stukhtra

05 Thursday Jan 2023

Posted by babylon crashing in Feminism, Illustration and art, Tarot

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quote unquote, Syssk, Tarot of Syssk, the fool

Far out in the uncharted backwaters of the unfashionable end of the Western Spiral arm of the Galaxy lies a small unregarded yellow sun. Orbiting this at a distance of roughly ninety-eight million miles is an utterly insignificant little blue-green planet whose ape-descended life forms are so amazingly primitive that they still think digital watches are a pretty neat idea. This planet has – or rather had – a problem, which was this: most of the people living on it were unhappy for pretty much all of the time. Many solutions were suggested for this problem, but most of these were largely concerned with the movement of small green pieces of paper, which was odd because on the whole it wasn’t the small green pieces of paper that were unhappy. And so the problem remained; lots of people were mean and most of them were miserable, even the ones with digital watches. ~ Douglas Adams

All stories must start somewhere.

In your grandmother’s Tarot deck the Fool is the ultimate free spirit, that proto-Flower Child who is the embodiment of beginnings, innocence and spontaneity. It is the first and last card since Zero is liminal, being both everything and nothing. We like to remind ourselves that, “We are stardust, we are golden/ We are billion-year-old carbon.” All this is true, and yet the gendered essentialism found in so much of that Tarot deck will only take us so far. Perhaps to the cliff for you, but certainly not over it for me. For that we need to find something else. As Nancy Baker puts it:

There’s a strong streak of anti-essentialism in Feminism, just as there is in Buddhism. It is the understanding that something like gender is not fixed or absolute, that not all women or men have some masculine or feminine essence that defines them. To put it in Buddhist terms, gender has no “self-nature.”

Western Pop Culture likes to claim that Buddhism is logical, agnostic and liberal in matters of gender and sexuality, conveniently overlooking all the misogynist views that the Buddha himself had about women, “of all the scents that can enslave a man none is more lethal than that of a woman.” For those of us who refuse or attempt to transcend such man-made concepts this critique is important because what we are searching for is liberation. There is nothing “enlightened” in any social structure that clings to ideas of rigid sexual morality and assigns half the world a secondary role simply by existing.

“Do not go where the path may lead,” Ralph Waldo Emerson reminds us, “go instead where there is no path and leave a trail.”

How Syssk found herself marooned in ancient Japan, surrounded by folks who consider her unenlightened simply by existing is unimportant. The question isn’t whether she is capable of spiritual growth, we are all capable of that, the question is what are the forces attempting to block her and you from that growth? Discard everything that gets in your way and The Way (The Tao) opens before you.

This is Syssk’s path and so it will be ours as well.

[an earlier version of the fool; the design of the xenomorph was much closer to h.r. giger’s original vision, though the blue figure was taken directly from robbie morrison’s shakara (2012) … always cite the sources that you purloin]

NOTES ON NOTES:

I have been told that my handwriting is almost illegible, so I will reproduce my notes here:

Sibylline Xenomorphia

In almost all the riddle-like koan the striking characteristic is the illogical or absurd act or word. A monk once asked, “What is Buddha?” The master replied, “Three pounds of flax.” Or a Zen master remarked, “When both hands are clapped a sound is produced; listen to the sound of one hand.” ~ Heinrich Dumoulin

I alone seem to have lost everything. Mine is indeed the mind of a very idiot. So dull am I. The world is full of people that shine; I alone am dark. ~ Tao Te Ching

Chaos is the Formless Void but the Void is not Chaotic.

My soul is a black maelstrom, a great madness spinning about a vacuum, the swirling of a vast ocean around a hole in the void, and in the waters, more like whirlwinds than waters, float images of all I ever saw or heard in the world: houses, faces, books, boxes, snatches of music and fragments of voices, all caught up in a sinister, bottomless whirlpool. ~ Fernando Pessoa

Giving birth to nothingness/ Giving birth to death/ Such terrible words/ I heard on the border/ Between dream and reality ~ Yosano Akiko

because I don’t have spit/ because I don’t have rubbish/ because I don’t have dust/ because I don’t have that which is in air/ because I am air/ let me try you with my magic power ~ Anne Waldman

bootchy

16 Thursday Dec 2021

Posted by babylon crashing in Uncategorized

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Amy Lowell, bootchy, ghost hunger, poem, Poetry, quote unquote, sonnet, The Camellia Tree of Matsue, Two Speak Together

“The Camellia tree would leave its place/ By the gateway,/ And wander up and down the garden,/ Trailing its roots behind it.” ~ Amy Lowell.

Fetch the axe, the poet said. But when you swung,

and bit deep, dark blood spouted, and when you

bent down to tear out the stump, the ground hung

open, “like a wound.” That you could, then threw

the foul thing ten feet, was lost on Lowell.

It was her ghost tale; as if a lewd tree

using lewd roots in lewd ways made a hell

better tale than you. Bull-dagger, Bootchy

-bitch, she called you. Boon-butch. Why the poet

of, “Two Speak Together,” shunned you, dunno,

but you swaggered like a boss. That macabre

bit of wood could only spew sap: scarlet

juice. You rose, aflame, but found your hero

didn’t notice, the one you called heartthrob.

][][

Notes:

This poem began with a line from the American poet, Amy Lowell, in, “The Camellia Tree of Matsue,” a curious little tale about a haunted tree. It ends with an anonymous gardener digging up said tree and finding it hemorrhaging blood. For whatever reason the gardener got my attention so I began doing research about Lowell and that led me to this asshole: Ezra Pound. Truth be told, taking Pound to task for his treatment of Lowell is the least of his crimes. As a fascist collaborator he ignored the massacres of Italian Jews and Gypsies in 1943, he ignored the Risiera di San Sabba extermination camp in Trieste, he ignored the Nazi occupational forces and Fascist militias running amok throughout all of Italy. However, much like with Gertrude Stein in Vichy France, when Pound’s name comes up there are still apologists who will hand-wave all this away by saying, “Yes, yes, the Holocaust was unfortunate but that was all Germany’s fault, all Mussolini wanted was for the trains to run on time.” I bring this up because long before he was Benito’s boot-licker he spent his time between Cantos attacking Amy Lowell in the way so many men do when talking about their betters: he ridiculed her for her weight, her “mannish” appearance, her love of other women. She wasn’t an Imagist poet, Pound wrote, she was a, “Hippopoetess … who wore pince-nez glasses and smoked cheap cigars.” Why there is still a cult of personality around this man to this day baffles me, except that it takes a fascist to love a fascist, I suppose. If you’ve never read Lowell before I highly suggest, Pictures of the Floating World (1927) which contains numerous erotic poems written to her lover and muse, Ada Dwyer Russell.

crosses

21 Friday Aug 2020

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, Poetry, sonnet

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crosses, erotic poetry, great love drug, horror, lewd eldritch horror, more than just spilled ink, poem, quote unquote, sex-hating freak, sonnet, Walt Whitman

Eldritch horror, mon amour. You lewd beast.
Ten inch tentacles. Phat cunt bravado.

You ooze more than swagger. In films a priest
gets called in, no sex-hating freak (although

he’s all that, too), for an exorcism.
I think of this watching the line of light

beneath my bedroom door. My heart’s rhythm
skips each time your shadow crosses it. Right

now there’s nothing more arousing. Horror
is my great love drug. I’d invite you in,

if I could, but I don’t. You’re indifferent
to my needs. In films the priest has power

over sin. In my world the priest is sin.
I’m in bed, dreaming of your eldritch cunt.

][][

NOTES:
The term, “eldritch horror,” comes from H.P. Lovecraft, who wrote about the complete irrelevance of mankind in the face of cosmic gods. The ocean is the closest thing I’ll ever get to that divine indifference; the great power that moves all life on this planet, from where we originated and completely apathetic to mankind’s prayers or needs. Man-made gods are just that; always curiously obsessed with humans, they have laws and pass judgment, they are angry or merciful, they save souls, things that only humans care about. We are a species that make up just 0.01% of life on Earth. Why would the divine exclude that other 99.99%? They don’t since they exist not to coddle human egos but to hold the universe together. Animals know this. As Walt Whitman pointed out, “They do not lie awake in the dark and weep for their sins,/ They do not make me sick discussing their duty to god,/ Not one is dissatisfied, not one is demented with the mania of owning things,/ … not one is respectable or unhappy over the whole earth.” That’s my rock and faith.

Quote

quote unquote

27 Sunday Jan 2019

Posted by babylon crashing in quote unquote

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life goals, quote unquote, undersea library

Life Goals: undersea library

Quote

jungmin yoon’s, ‘say grace’

26 Saturday Jan 2019

Posted by babylon crashing in Poetry, quote unquote, quotes

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Emily Jungmin Yoon, i love this so much, poem, Poetry, quote unquote, reblog, Say Grace, shamans

In my country our shamans were women
and our gods multiple until white people brought
an ecstasy of rosaries and our cities today
glow with crosses like graveyards. As a child
in Sunday school I was told I’d go to hell
if I didn’t believe in God. Our teacher was a woman
whose daughters wanted to be nuns and I asked
What about babies and what about Buddha, and she said
They’re in hell too and so I memorized prayers
and recited them in front of women
I did not believe in. Deliver us from evil.
O sweet Virgin Mary, amen.
O sweet. O sweet.
In this country, which calls itself Christian,
what is sweeter than hearing Have mercy
on us.
From those who serve different gods. O
clement, O loving, O God, O God, amidst ruins,
amidst waters, fleeing, fleeing. Deliver us from evil.
O sweet, O sweet. In this country,
point at the moon, at the stars, point at the way the lake lies,
with a hand full of feathers,
and they will look at the feathers. And kill you for it.
If a word for religion they don’t believe in is magic
so be it, let us have magic. Let us have
our own mothers and scarves, our spirits,
our shamans and our sacred books. Let us keep
our stars to ourselves and we shall pray
to no one. Let us eat
what makes us holy.

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quote unquote

26 Wednesday Dec 2018

Posted by babylon crashing in quote unquote

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fallen angel, Frankenstein, mary shelley, quote unquote

Remember, that I am your creature: I ought to be your Adam; but I am rather the fallen angel.
— Mary Shelley, Frankenstein (1818)

quote unquote

19 Wednesday Dec 2018

Posted by babylon crashing in quote unquote

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Catherine Tailleferre, German translation, quote unquote

Denk immer an die alte Weisheit, solange man noch vögeln kann, lebt man!/ Always remember the old saying, as long as you can fuck, you live!


Catherine Tailleferre as Fräulein Nimmersatt in Die Beichte der Josefine Mutzenbacher (1979) 

Quote

quote unquote

16 Sunday Dec 2018

Posted by babylon crashing in quote unquote

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all sex poems are tragic, got choked, got woked, quote unquote

got choked/ got woked

4-word poem

Quote

quote unquote

16 Sunday Dec 2018

Posted by babylon crashing in quote unquote

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keep writing, perverse, quote unquote

This is my version of perversion/ This is my verse in perverse.

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